


Azure and Tin

by mercurybard



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurybard/pseuds/mercurybard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gave him another shot at life</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Azure. Cerulean. Sapphire. The first thing he sees after years of unending horror is a pair of blue eyes. A good spirit, maybe, finally come to take him out of this personal hell. But, no, it's just a girl who watches with wide blue eyes as he staggers over to the projector that has tormented him for so long. It pulls free of the post, revealing a wicked spike. For a second, all he can think of is driving it into his eyes, one at a time. Just in case Zero returns to lock him up inside that metal suit again.

A small calloused hand with dainty nails reaches up and takes the spike from his grip. "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."


	2. Chapter 2

Demilo's wagon is crowded, tacky, and smells like sweat, incense, and stale sex. But mostly, it's crowded. He settles himself in a corner, as far away from Demilo's women and Raw and Glitch and especially D.G. But he should've known better—she comes crawling over to him before they're even through the gates of Central City.

She's shaking, though whether it's from nerves or excitement, he can't tell. She leans her head on his shoulder and takes his rough hand in hers. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not letting those runners eat us and for getting this ride in."

"Don't mention it." And he means it. There's a lump in his throat that he can't seem to swallow and getting words out around it is a challenge.

She's silent for a moment as the wagon bumps over the uneven cobblestones. Central City really has grown tarnished during his time in the suit. Do the people living here even notice it?

Beside him, D.G. fidgets. "You know, back home, I hated the local cop. He was always busting my butt about driving too fast."

He can't help but make a noise that just might be a laugh—a wheezy, rusty sounding laugh, and he presses his face into her hair. She smells like pine needles, clean and fresh.


End file.
